


freedom for wolves (is death for lambs)

by therestisdetail



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, derek does not have a werewolf parenting 101 book, fuck you i can quote disney if i like, look at your choices, look at your life, pack means family and family means no one is left behind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 05:20:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therestisdetail/pseuds/therestisdetail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was stupid to think he could ever overcome his own nature; he's prey not predator, he always will be.</p>
<p>(a.k.a, the one that happened because littleredcup has lots of feelings about Isaac and insecurity. And Isaac and Derek. And Isaac and pack. It belongs to her, basically.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	freedom for wolves (is death for lambs)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littleredcup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleredcup/gifts).



 

Isaac hurts everywhere. He's been stupid. So stupid, to think that this would change anything. So he can hear a heartbeat from across the pitch, now. Knit his skin together in moments, rip a locker door off its hinges without trying. It doesn't matter. He's not the only one. Just means that now he's getting his ass handed to him by Scott goddamn McCall, again, instead of- he's still curled up in the corner after getting his ass kicked, that's the point, like he always will be.   
  
The familiar voice in the back of his head is laughing at him, and he snarls at it to shut up. Shut up, you're dead.   
  
"That bitch," Erica says weakly from where she's sitting slumped against a wall. She's closing and unclosing her fist experimentally, then catches Boyd smirking and twists her hand as if she's simply inspecting her nails. If the angle of her leg is anything to go by, the toxin has far from worn off. "That total _whore_."  
  
"She's not the one who needed her ass dragged out of there," Boyd says flatly. Isaac curls in tighter. Erica wasn't the only one.   
  
Whatever Erica planned on hissing in reply is cut off by Derek slamming his way through the door. He smells like anger and sweat and fear and blood, and only some of it is his.   
  
"Did you get it?" Erica asks, eyes large. She's doing a terrible job at hiding what all three of them are feeling; relief, that Derek went after the kanima and came back, in one piece, came back at all.   
  
Derek snarls an affirmative, but he's frowning. "Doubt it's dead. The police showed up." He twists his neck until it cracks audibly, then straightens, spine snapping tight. Isaac can hear bones resetting.   
  
"I should've come with you," there's a bit of swagger in Boyd's step as he moves towards Derek. Erica narrows her eyes at the implication. "We could've finished it, we- "  
  
"No."  
  
Boyd flushes, then he's baring his fangs. "Bullshit." His eyes flash gold. "You got me babysitting when you can't even finish the j-"  
  
Derek interrupts with a hand at the base of his neck and slams him right into the wall.  
  
"You. Are. _Pack_ ," Derek growls into Boyd's ear, like that explains everything, and at a pitch that hits Isaac right in the gut. His fingers are digging into Boyd's neck, but clawless, controlled, holding him against the wall. "Do I need to repeat that?"  
  
"No," Boyd says. His shoulders hunch. Submission. "You don't."   
  
Derek stays pressed close for a few breaths, then flicks his eyes across to Erica, who's trying to climb to her feet. Boyd doesn't so much as pull a face as he darts over to help her up, and get the hell out of the room.   
  
That leaves Derek, and Isaac.There's a lot of things he could say, Isaac knows that. About how killing Lydia would have been a mistake, about how that was _Derek's_ mistake, about how Scott has had so much longer to learn how to use his strength. Reasons that this isn't his fault.   
  
"I tried," is what Isaac does say, in a rush, and it sounds shaky and hollow. Weak. He bites down on all the other words fighting to spill out, all of the _I'm sorry, I'll do better, please, please_. Don't speak. That's the first rule. It makes it worse, it always, always makes it worse.   
  
Derek's jaw tightens. He strides over and then drops to one knee so his face is almost level with Isaacs, leaning - no, looming over him. The word has never been more appropriate. The whimper in the back of Isaac's throat is involuntary, but he regrets it anyway; Derek is so close and so still, as if he's trying to make a decision. Isaac can't tear his eyes away from Derek's, no matter how much he doesn't want to see the weighing up occuring in that gaze. Derek grabs his wrist and Isaac wonders, with an absent, detached kind of apprehension, if he's going to break it again.   
  
He doesn't. Instead, he grabs the other wrist as well, then turns them upwards and runs his hands none too gently all the way up to Isaac's shoulders. When he reaches them he starts patting, at his shoulders, at his chest, and Isaac is frozen with confusion. It's more exploratory than anything, poking and prodding, and Isaac flinches when he hits a healing bruise, then tries to hide it.   
  
Derek grabs his legs next, pulling at his knee. He digs his fingers into the denim of Isaac's jeans and then without warning is arching up and raking his fingers through Isaac's hair, tugging his head from one side to another. Isaac breathes shallowly and lets him. When Derek stops Isaac stops too; stops breathing, tenses up, frantically trying to make sense of it, but all Derek does is let out a deep, satisfied rumble, low in his chest. Isaac can feel it on his fingers - that's when he realises that at some point, he laid his hand on Derek's chest. At some point, he came uncurled.   
  
"I can heal," Isaac tells him, almost defiant. Derek does the satisfied rumbling thing again, and pulls his fingers out of Isaac's hair. Then he slides down to sit next to Isaac and doesn't make any sound at all. He's got his arm around the back of Isaac's neck, a warm weight. He still smells of blood, mostly his own, and something else, something more acrid. The fear is still there, too, traces of it, and the anger. Other things that Isaac can't yet recognise. Mostly, though, he smells familiar.

Isaac lowers his head onto Derek's shoulder hesitantly, and feels him shift slightly to accomodate it."You are pack." Derek says, firmly, and nothing else.   
  
This time, Isaac thinks, he gets that how maybe that might explain everything.

 


End file.
